


Mercy and Sex, alt. Sauron has a Sneeze Fetish

by Anntipasto



Series: Prisoner of Angband [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blindfolds, Degrading Nicknames, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, Finger Sucking, How Fun For You, Implied/Referenced Torture, Making Out, Master/Slave, POV Second Person, Sickfic, Soft sex, Watching Someone Sleep, You Get To Cum In This One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 21:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anntipasto/pseuds/Anntipasto
Summary: You're a sick prisoner of Sauron, and, most of the time, that spells a death sentence for thralls. For some reason, though, you find yourself being given special treatment by your master.
Relationships: Sauron | Mairon/Original Female Character(s), Sauron | Mairon/Reader
Series: Prisoner of Angband [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479644
Comments: 19
Kudos: 118





	Mercy and Sex, alt. Sauron has a Sneeze Fetish

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this when I was sick a week or so ago and didn't finish it until now. I think I switched from present to past tense a few times, lol. Enjoy! & don't forget that this is a portrayal of a certainly Very Unhealthy relationship

"Feeling sick?" Sauron sneers, looking you over as you stand trembling in his doorway. Having never been sick himself, he considers sick humans weak humans and often mistreats them until they succumb to their fevers. Knowing he doesn't need sleep, you have no doubts about why you're in his bedchambers. You hope it doesn't kill you.

You shiver, both in fear and fever, hesitating to answer. The truth was dangerous, but a lie would quickly be revealed. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I'll be better again soon." Your n's and m's refuse to come through, and you curse your stuffed up nose. A sneeze builds from nowhere, and, though you try to hold it back, launches itself violently from you.

Sauron's features, somehow, soften. You could swear a smile touches his lips. "There is a reason I spend so much time tormenting sick slaves," he says, almost softly. Even gently?

You look up at him, hope shining in your glassy eyes. "Sir?"

His hand is on the side of your face, and you flinch, but it just rests there, cupping your features gently. Normally it feels hotter than it does now. You are unsure whether he is making himself cooler, or if your fever has just spiked. "Sick humans are adorable."

You blush violently, looking down at the ground.

"Your sneezes are so cute. You run hotter than usual. You're too tired to resist me. Your complexion pales, except for," he tucks hair behind your ear gently, "when you blush."

You look up and see he's staring at you intensely. Your cheeks are flaming red, making you even hotter. You're suddenly aware that you left the door open, although no one is out in the hall. You wonder if he'll close it. Looking away, head foggy, you don't think before you speak. "We also die more easily this way. Sir."

His thumb pinches your cheeks, forcing your lips to squish together like a fish's. "I know that, girl." His voice is harsh again, and you flinch.

"Sorry, master, sorry!"

His grip relaxes, and now his hand moves to brush against your forehead, over your lips, down your neck, landing on your breast and squeezing. "That's quite all right, pet. You can make it up to me." His hand slides around to your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

"Yes, master," you say. There's a hint of misery in your voice. The prospect of sex with Sauron, something usually quite energetic and often painful, doesn't sound like your idea of fun at the moment. You would rather have a nap and a cup of soup, but those luxuries have long been out of your grasp. And the door, the door remains open for anyone to see the lewd display your master was putting on.

He catches your eyes flickering to the open door, and his gaze follows, but he merely grins before turning back to you. "Don't worry, my lovely little pet. I have something rather nice in mind for you today."

_ Nice for you, or nice for me? _You don't give voice to your thoughts. "Thank you, master."

He pulls you onto your tip-toes and bends down to press his lips against yours. His are surprisingly cool, while yours are still feverishly warm. His face grows a touch hotter, and you know a slight blush has spread across it. You open your eyes to see it, to see something so _h__uman _upon the face of the one who owns you, and his open as well. Yellow irises with slits for pupils shine, momentarily blinding you, and his pupils grow narrower. He pulls away, licking your lips before he goes. "Sweetheart, are you trying to see something you shouldn't?" he scolds, and you know he's in a good mood. He saves the most degrading nicknames for when he's happiest. "Naughty girl. I'll have to punish you for that."

He doesn't sound angry; he sounds delighted. It puts you at ease. You've seen the sick slaves he tortures to death, and yet, for some reason, you believe you could be safe. He steps away from you, toward the cushy bed with heavy blankets and deep red curtains. You stand where he left you, uncertainly shuffling from foot to foot.

"Come along, pet."

You look over to the door. "Sir..."

"Yes?" His tone is sharp again.

You decide to try anyway. "The door is open. Sir. Master."

"Yes, it is. Is that a problem?"

You hear the venom in his words, and, though you'd rather not, you shake your head.

"Then come _ here_."

You take a step, but you hadn't yet realized how weak you'd grown in your sickness, and perhaps from the kiss. He catches you before you fall all the way to the floor, scooping you into his arms bridal style. You're blushing again, eyes flickering between the empty hallway and Sauron's face.

He smiles gallantly down at you, and you know you're not hiding your blush well at all. His smile turns a bit more predatory, and you look toward the bed. You're afraid he'll throw you down and start immediately, but he sets you down gently with another soft kiss. His lips brush against yours, one hand trailing over your thigh.

"Mm," you hum against him, feeling the sound force its way past your stuffed nose. "Master, I... I didn't..." You stammer for a moment before ending your sentence, but now he's looking at you critically.

"Didn't what?"

You're still alive, and he hasn't hurt you yet today for speaking a bit of your mind. Again, you decide to speak. "I didn't know you could be so... gentle."

"Would you like me to be rougher?"

Your eyes widen. "N-no, sir! Please don't."

He smiles again. "I may just have to punish you later, to remind you of who's in charge here."

"I'm sorry," you plead. You don’t want the kindness of the day to end.

His hand brushes hair away from your face. You still flinch under his touch, but, this time, you expect him not to hurt you. "That's okay, pet. I'll stay gentle with you until you recover. I know how humans love to be babied."

"Th-thank you, master."

"Of course, pet."

He climbs into bed with you, propped up above you on his forearms while his lower body presses against you. He plays with your hair a little longer. Somehow, you feel safe under him. It's the first time you've felt that way in this position.

"You're still nothing but my little cock-sleeve, you know," he whispers into your ear in a deceptively cheery tone. You're certain he knows you like it when he talks dirty to you, and maybe that's one of the reasons he's kept you alive so long. "You’re nothing but a dirty whore. And whores don't get to cum."

That's no different than usual. He has never done anything to help you get off, rather satisfying his own needs and leaving you to wash up after. Sometimes, he refuses to let you cum, even if you've reached that point naturally during sex. If you do anyway, you get punished. You hoped today he would be nicer, although you aren't sure you would be able to work up the energy to try and get off. "Yes, master."

"Say you're nothing but a filthy whore."

"I'm nothing but a filthy whore," you say loudly, aware how stuffed your words sound as they echo back at you from the stone walls. You blush bright red remembering the door is open and moan softly. As nice as Sauron is being, you would still rather have a nap.

"Good," he praises you, and his lips find your neck.

You don't want your master to be disappointed in you, sitting still as a board under him, so you place your hands on his chest. It's firm, muscled and unyielding. Without stopping his ministrations against your neck, he reaches a hand down to grab one of your wrists. You freeze, but he simply pulls it up to rest next to your head. He does the same to your other hand. Finishing with your neck, he pulls away to see the way your arms are now framing your face. You want to move, to cover your face, but you lie in silent shame, trying to hold eye contact with your master. You fail, of course.

"Don't move," he growls, and you nod complacently. "That's moving."

You stop nodding quickly, looking down in fear.

"Perhaps not all of your punishments should come tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, master, I won't move again--" your words are interrupted by another sneeze, and you barely manage to turn your head to the side in time. You freeze, trembling, and feel tears spring to your eyes even as you squeeze them closed. "I'm sorry, master, I'm sorry!"

His hand turns your head back towards him, and you crack your eyes open. "It's all right, sweetheart. Stop trembling, now. Let me take care of you."

The instant transition from cruel to caring gives you a bit of whiplash. You're scared of Sauron again, but that's nothing new. You hope he stays pleasant.

He starts kissing you again, hands roaming your body as he does so. He lets you breathe periodically by moving to kiss your face, your nose, your ears, your neck, and back to your lips. You can’t help but remain aware of the open door, but you wouldn’t dare ask for this softness to cease. He tugs your shirt from your thin frame, smiling appreciatively at what he’s uncovered. “You’re beautiful, princess.”

He must really be in a good mood. That nickname was perfectly degrading, even after a sincere compliment being delivered breathlessly. Besides that, you thought you would have long since lost your shame around the one who rips your clothes from you regularly, but you are still embarrassed by the attention he is giving you. Of course he thought you were beautiful. If he didn’t, you would be dead by now. You’re still blushing, anyway, and resisting the urge to cover yourself up. If someone were to walk by…

But then he’s kissing you again, and his kisses trail lower until his mouth is on your breasts. You moan at a low volume. Perhaps it would be worth the effort to try and cum, if he lets you.

“You like that, whore?” He hums against your skin, and you murmur a yessir. “You’re still so feverish. Have you started coughing yet?”

“Only at night, sir.” Another sneeze escapes you, and he moves to capture your mouth with his immediately.

His hand slides into your pants, rubbing against your clit with minimal pressure. Yes, you think it’s worth trying to cum today.

“Ah… Sir… Mast-ter…”

“You may say my name.”

“_Mairon_,” you moan. Catching his look, you quickly amend your mistake. “_Tar _-Mairon.”

“Good girl. Only coughing at night, you say? I may have to keep you for overnight observation.”

“Yes, master.”

He increases the pressure against your clit, and your hands twist to catch in the blankets as your hips lift to meet him.

“I told you not to move, precious pet.”

“Ah… I’m s-sorry, master.” You let go of the blankets in an instant. Your hips fall, but his hand falls to meet them.

“No matter. Try to keep it in mind.”

That was unusual. This whole scenario was unusual, though, and you aren’t going to question it now. He bites your neck, lightly, and you look to the still-open doorway.

“Mast...er. Ah… Can you _ please _ close the door?”

“No one would dare interrupt me while I am with one of my whores. Besides, your physical form is quite fair, and mine, too. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, pet. And there’s no _ need _ to _ question _ me, got that?”

Two of his fingers push inside you to punctuate his last statement. “Ah…! Yessir!”

You rarely get to be prepped before he is inside you, and you never knew how skilled he was at it. Had he practiced with someone? Who was getting to be pleasured, while you were often just used like a sex doll and tossed aside? He is taking his time with you, being sure not to neglect rubbing against your clit. His other hand pulls your wrists above your head, holding them in place as he kisses and finger-fucks you. You are breathing heavily into his mouth, you know, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. He probably doesn’t need to breathe, anyway, much less smell the stagnant scent of sickness in your mouth.

When he finally tugs your pants away from you, you are practically begging to be naked already. You cool down slightly as he gets naked himself, leaving on only his floor-length robe. Climbing back on top of you, he tugs the cloak around both of your naked bodies. “Better?” He gestures to the door with his head.

It isn’t ideal, but it will preserve your dignity. “Thank you, master.”

He positions himself, giving your clit another circular rub as he does so. “Say my name.”

“Tar-Mairon.”

He grins as your nose sticks on the letter m. “You have my permission to keep using my name.”

“Yes, Tar-Mairon.” Your hands are still above your head, and you remember his warning to stay still, yet you can’t help but lift your hips in anticipation.

“Excited, my precious pet?”

“Yes, yes, master, _ please_.”

“Hush, now.” He pushes inside of you, watching your expression carefully as he does so. Your fingers and toes curl in expectation, in need. “Good girl,” he breathes appreciatively, beginning the process of fucking you right.

Unlike other times, he seems concerned with what angles make you breathe harder, moan his name, and squirm underneath him. Movement is met with only gentle reprimands, and he finally allows you to put your arms around him, fingernails digging into his back. His hands find the crevices of your body that make you hold your breath, returning often to the place you need them most. You are close to cumming, and you know it will happen before he achieves it himself.

The hand he had been using to finger you comes up to grab your jaw and force his fingers in your mouth. You suck them as you have been taught, letting spit trail from your tongue. It was sheer coincidence, really, that your eyes flicker over to notice movement from the door.

A few new prisoners, you can tell they are new by the untattered clothes and unsullied expressions they wear, are being herded past the doorway. They look down on you in your depraved state, arms around your master, his fingers in your mouth and his cock in your pussy, clearly enjoying yourself, and scoff. You grow tight and uncomfortable. Sauron pulls his hand from your mouth and slaps you, hard across the cheek.

“Pay attention to me only, princess.”

“Sorry, master.”

“I am the only feeling you need. I am the only thing you should be seeing.”

“S-sorry.”

He has gone back to being terrifying, and the look on his face is what you are used to seeing in this position. You are no longer certain that you will be able to cum. Suddenly, you feel exhausted and sick and revolted and nothing more.

And then his face grows soft again. “Let me help you, pet. You needn’t see what other people think of you enjoying yourself.”

He pulls away, leaving your arms to fold across your stomach, cold and hot and miserable. And still, just a bit, horny.

He is exposed to only you, his cape blocking his body from anyone who might be outside the door. Not that anyone is there anymore. The prisoners will quickly be processed and put to work. If they are lucky, put to death. Sauron opens a drawer in his bedside table and removes a silky piece of fabric. “Sit up, pet,” he commands.

You sit up. He comes close to you, tucking hair behind your ear, kissing you softly, and tying the fabric around your eyes as a blindfold. You can still see, but only if you look down. The door will certainly not be visible to you anymore.

“Trust me, precious,” he whispers into your ear, laying you back down upon the pillows.

He gets on top of you again, throwing the cape around your naked bodies. He kisses you tenderly, murmuring at how soft the flush in your cheeks is, how hot your forehead is, and how well you are doing for him. He teases you, hand rubbing around but not over your clit until you move your hips in an attempt to capture his fingers yourself.

He gives in then, treating you to a pleasure you have never felt from him before this day. You hear more footsteps outside and scrunch your face, but he kisses your rumpled brow. “Relax, sweetheart, and just focus on me.”

You attempt to block out the sound of people beyond the room. It is easier, admittedly, from your world of obstructed sight and simple pleasure. His fingers dip into you again, then, and you know you are both almost back to the place you had been.

He teases you again for a while, until you finally break your silence. “Please, Tar-Mairon, master, please fuck me?”

“I will fuck you when I please, slut, and not a moment before.” Even as he says this, he removes his fingers and replaces them with the head of his cock. “You would do well to learn that lesson again, after today.”

“Yessir.”

You wonder if he is still studying your facial expressions, and you are certain they aren’t terribly attractive at the moment. He seems to delight in suddenly touching you in a place you aren’t expecting, making you jump and gasp. His fingers enter your mouth again, your arms around him, and footsteps can, again, be heard outside. You ignore them, making sucking noises and obscene moans that will drown out the sound. When whoever walked by is well and truly gone, you are rewarded with a, “Good girl,” and a thumb against your clit.

Your breath catches in your throat. You are near cumming, and you know it. “Ah… Ah, master, ah…”

“Yes?” His thumb rubs faster, and your hands are caught in his cape.

“I’m g-going to, ah, cum, mast_er _.”

“Seeing as how you’re sick…” He pretends to think for a moment, and you know your knuckles must be white, toes curled, body ready.

“_P__lease_?”

“Well, go ahead, then, pet.”

You cum with a smile and an exhale, thanking your master for being so kind to you. His pace grows quicker, slamming into you with the force you had gotten used to. Your thoughts, already foggy with sickness, blur, and you nearly beg him to stop. Only thoughts of punishment once it is over stay your tongue, and you ride the overstimulation with only desperate moans. As you are coming down and regaining your sense, he cums, releasing himself inside of you. You are glad when he falls next to you on the bed, making certain you are still safely underneath his cloak. You don’t yet move, unsure if taking off the blindfold would merit punishment.

You are suddenly riddled with a sneezing fit, and you curl away from him, tucking your face into the blankets miserably when you are done. You surreptitiously wipe your nose on the blankets, hoping it won’t drip more, and pant oxygen back into your lungs. Sauron curls around you, one hand on your breast. “Oh, sweetie, you must feel _ terrible_.” He sounds overjoyed by the concept, and you nod.

“Sorry.”

“The sex was good?”

“Very much so, master. Thank you.”

His face buries into your hair for a moment before he rises and crosses the room. Finally, finally, he shuts the accursed door and returns to bed. “Are you tired?”

“Only if you have no more use for me, master.”

“You’re shaking. Are you cold?”

“Yes, master.”

He feels your forehead and cheeks. “You’re still very warm, for a human. Perhaps I overexerted you. Come, let me bathe you.” Without waiting for an answer, he lifts you into his arms effortlessly.

You are still wearing the blindfold as you waited for the tub to fill with warm water. You sit with your arms wrapped around your knees, semen still sticky against your thighs. You want to ask if a cold bath wouldn’t be better for your fever, but, for one, you are freezing, and, for another thing, you don’t want to risk making Sauron mad. You are unable to read his mood without sight, and he hasn’t said anything since he left the room for a moment, “to prepare for you,” whatever that meant.

When he returns, he helps you into the tub and removes your blindfold. You blink in the light, and he dunks your head under the water. You don’t struggle, and he pulls you back up by your hair seconds later. “You’re very dirty, pet. Don’t worry. I’ll be sure you’re clean before you sleep in my bed.”

In his bed… But he doesn’t need to sleep, or so you think.

He pours a fruity soap into his hands and begins to rub it into your hair, washing away the plentiful dirt of captivity. His hands are firm but unpainful, and he dunks you back under to rinse away the soap. He begins to untangle the knots with his fingers gently, starting from the bottom and working his way up. You remain in silence, somewhat tense but mostly relaxed. He finishes detangling your hair and workes another layer of soap through it before starting on your body. He is still being gentle, helping you to stand and sit again when he is done. You feel something like a doll being bathed.

When you are clean, Sauron drains the water and rinses you by pouring buckets of clean, warm water over your head and body. Convinced he has removed all the soap, he wraps you in a towel and rubs until you are dry. He pulls a comb through your hair and makes his hands warm to steam some of the water away. You begin to yawn, leaning against walls and succumbing to the misery of sickness. It is late, now, and something about the night air triggers your coughing again.

Each little coughing fit brings Sauron closer to you. You find yourself leaning on him at some point before jerking back to your senses. When that occurs, he helps you back to his bed and tucks you, naked, under the covers. You notice the top blanket you had been laying on earlier has been replaced by something thicker, softer, and warmer. “Sleep well, pet. I cannot stay all night, but rest assured I’ll be watching you.”

“Yessir,” you murmur sleepily. So there wasn’t to be any torture today, none that mattered. Hopefully, none will come tomorrow, either, or until you began to recover from whatever illness you had received. With that thought peacefully in your mind, you drift off to sleep thinking about two glowing yellow eyes watching you in the dark.


End file.
